Currently Untitled
by Touch.Over.Rated
Summary: What happens when Jeff Hardy is finally forced to deal with the regrets of a drunken night? Jeff HardyTrish Stratus Rated for language


**Hey guys! Here's the prologue. Hope you enjoy! I claim nothing, and none of this is true. Remember to read and review! Thanks!

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The two sat together in the dewy grass. The night continued on around them, ignoring the tension between the two. Her eyes were still cast on the sky. She looked desperately for the one special star that would take her all away from this. He, on the other hand, was not as calm about the situation. His palms were sweaty, and he was swallowing feverishly to keep down the beer he had just drunken.  
"You're what?" His words were slightly slurred, but still right to the point. She sighed beside him, this was becoming quite typical of him. He growled softly looking down at the ground. A slight rustling insured what he had already thought. She was now on her feet.  
"I'm Pregnant, Jeff. P..R...E..G..N..E..N..T..!" Her words echoed back to them. There, she had spelled it out for him, yet he was still silent. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the cool summer night.  
"Trish?" Her head immaiditly snapped up, and their eyes met. "You spelled pregnent wrong."

"You fucking jackass!" Her hand shot out, and his cheek was stinging before he knew it. "You deserved that! You fucking deserved that, and so much more!" She sighed, sitting on the ground again, and shaking her head. "I'm sorry Jeff, I shouldn't have hit you."

"Bitch." Was his reply. He rubbed his cheek, and glared at the burenette across from him. Her face set in a scowl, but she remained silent. "It's not mine." Her look turned to one of pure shock, and he knew she had a mouthful for him. He rushed on before she could speak. "We used a rubber everytime. You shouldn't be whoring around, Trish. This is your problem."

"Jeff, you can't be serious! You know damn well this is your kid. Be fucking reasonable. I haven't sleep with anyone else. Besides, if I had it would've been my choice. How many other girls have you slept with, Jeffrey?" His eyes flashed at her words. She was heading into tearchous territory. "I've loved you through all the cheating, and have remained faithful. Why can't you accept the fact that this is your child?" "Because I'm not stupid." He stood, and turned his back to her, eyeing the house. "This converstation is over, and so are we." She could feel hot tears press against her eyes. His footsteps were the only indication to her that he had left. She let her eyes remain trained on the ground, and let the tears fall. She could hear music coming from the house if she listened hard enough. The party was still in full swing, and here she was crying. "Trish? Honey, are you alright?" She wiped furiously at her eyes, and looked up, seeing Amy Dumas coming near her. The two weren't very close, but they had their moments. The woman stopped beside her, and quietly reached her hand out. Trish took it, and with help, she stood.

"I'm fine, Amy."

"You don't look fine." They started towards the house, walking side by side at a slow steady pace. "Jeff said you guys got in a fight. A big one." The red head glanced over at the woman beside her. They had reached their destination, and now were sourounded by drunken party goers. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here"  
The small blonde nodded, keeping close to Amy as they causitily stepped around several couples who looked to be swallowing each other whole at the moment. Her answer seemed to sasifty the other women, and with a nod, she was off leaving Trish alone.

"So..wait a second. Trish told you she's pregnant?" Matt Hardy wildly shook his head, pacing in front of his brother. He seemed more upset, and worried then Jeff was. Jeff sighed leaning back on his small bed. "Yes." The two were quiet for a moment, and they allowed the silence to be filled by the laughter of their guests. The younger Hardy grabbed a container of vodka sitting next to his bed, and took a long swig. Matt winced, watching as he cringed at the burn.

"Drinking yourself into oblivion isn't going to make anything better, Jeff." He merely took another gulp in response, causing Matt to sigh loudly. "What are you going to do about this?" Jeff placed the bottle back on the floor, and contemplated the question.

"The only thing I can do. Get the fuck out of Toronto."


End file.
